Warmed Over
by HoofsTails Gal
Summary: A major accident during a serious hunt leaves Sam and Dean wounded in more ways then one. It also lands them in a precarious situation that, this time around, they hadn't planned on nor were prepared to meet head on, since the apocalypse and all.


**Author's Note**: I haven't written a fan fiction in a while but I had the sudden urge to do so. I can't decide when this story is set. I guess it doesn't really matter much anyway… I just had to write something involving brother love and because I'm a sick and disgusting person I couldn't help but beat the boys up… a lot.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing supernatural related.

Sam was flying through the air so fast that his senses hardly registered Dean's shout of frustration. He hit the wall, his head bursting with pain before he suddenly woke up with a strangled gasp.

The room was silent and Sam's head somehow throbbed harder at that. He was guessing that he'd been knocked unconscious, but for how long he didn't know.

When he opened his eyes the ceiling of the room spun dangerously and his vision blurred for a moment. He was literally seeing little white stars as he tried to roll around for a better view.

His senses slowly started to click back into their normal routine and the second thing Sam noticed, besides the intolerable amount of pain his head was radiating through his entire body, was the smell.

A coppery thick smell flooded his thoughts and he gagged reflexively. The first thought was that he was bleeding, everywhere, and he started to panic. Wanting to stem the blood flow as quickly as possible, Sam started to sit up, but immediately had to lay his head back down as the room spun more dangerously than before.

"Sam." His name. That's right, Dean was here.

"Dean?"

"Finally graced me with your presence? You've been out for a long time man."

Sam inhaled sharply, his brain swirled with the smell of blood.

"I'm bleeding Dean."

Dean exhaled softly, "You're fine."

Sam wasn't convinced, "No, I can smell it! I'm bleeding!"

"Calm down! You're not hurt… except your head. You probably have a concussion or something." Dean's voice was firm yet weak at the same time.

Sam shut his eyes, wanting nothing more than to get away from the foul stench that was making his head hurt far worse than the lump.

He realized something, "The girl! Is she… is she hurt?"

"No man. She took off running. Didn't even have a scratch. Probably missing a few hairs though… serves her right."

Sam opened his eyes again, "Why does it smell like blood then?"

Dean's voice was gentle, "You're fine Sam, I promise."

Sam tried again to role his head around. He had a hard time, but he managed. Dean was lying down next to him… odd, but he let it go.

"Is it dead?"

Dean smiled, "You missed the best part! I practically killed it with my bare hands. Damn thing fought like a bitch, but yeah, it's dead."

Sam shut his eyes again, "Good."

The smell grew in its intensity and Sam moaned gently. Where the hell was it coming from?

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean's voice was soft.

"Can we go now?"

"If you want."

Sam looked at his brother, truly looked. His eyes were at half mast and his mouth was hanging open only a little as he took in ragged breaths. Sam's heart stopped for a moment as the smell burst out again.

"Dean? Are you ok?"

Dean's eyes flickered down and then came back up to Sam's gently, "I'm fine."

Sam followed the quick glance and that's when he saw it.

His head burst out in pain and he rolled away from Dean to vomit. He somehow managed to keep going for a good five minutes before finally taking a slow breath and rolling back over.

"Damn Sam, you have a pretty serious concussion," Dean whispered as Sam stared at his torso.

"Dean!?" Sam inhaled and exhaled with a panicked whimper. He didn't want to panic, but there was a freaking pole sticking out of his brother's side!

"Sam, it's ok." Dean's voice was soothing, but somehow it managed to make Sam freak out more.

He sat up quickly; screwing up his equilibrium and making him want to vomit more. His breath came in quick gasps as he surveyed the damage and saw the amount of blood his brother had already lost.

The only thing he managed to rasp out past his now constricting throat was a strangled, "Dean!?"

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam said through the panic and vertigo as he gently probed the protruding pole.

"It's cold man." As if to prove his point Dean shivered, making the pole slide a tiny bit more through his body.

"Dean, hold still ok? It's alright." But even as he said it his voice shook, his entire body shook.

His head throbbed as he stood and bent over to pick his brother up. It was difficult to avoid the protruding pole, not to bump it or even get near it. He nicked it once and heard Dean's pitiful moan and he swore to not inflict any more damage to his brother.

The Impala seemed a mile away with Sam practically going on pure adrenaline and Dean feeling pathetic the entire way.

Even when Sam finally leaned on the trusted old car the world still tilted dangerously around him, but he refused to give up. If the world wanted to move then he'd move with it and he swayed as he settled Dean in at an awkward position. The pole having to poke at an odd angle in the rear seat.

Sam stumbled to the driver's side and slid in. He didn't care if he had a concussion; he was going to get Dean to a hospital.

The drive was longer than Sam suspected and twice he had to literally rouse himself as he started to dose off and drift over the center line.

With slow and deliberate movements Sam unloaded himself from the car, but his caution didn't get him far, and as he stood up his head nicked the door frame.

For one, panicked moment everything went bright white and then black before Sam forced himself to lean forward and retch, keeping awake by sure will power.

Dean moaned somewhere behind him as Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his head swimming in a very frightening pool of iced jello.

With much concentration Sam managed to stand on unsteady feet and half stumble half fall to the passenger side to get his brother out.

Sound had dulled to a quiet and unpleasant hum as Sam's world centered solely on getting Dean help.

He never felt his knees give out or even notice that he kept crawling on them towards Dean. He never even registered a lady rushing forward from across the parking lot and offering help before taking off in a full out sprint for doctors. All he needed was for Dean to be ok.

He finally made it and touched Dean's hand and cheeks and lips. He waited for that puff of air that signaled life. He felt none. He waited and then suddenly sound returned. He could hear strangled sobs as paramedics came running shouting instructions.

It took Sam a few head throbbing moments to realize it was his own voice crying. In his numbed and concussed state he only barely registered the moistness on his cheeks and Dean's too cold lips with no air coming out.

The paramedics arrived and pulled Sam away with soothing and yet forceful words.

Sam tried to tell them that Dean needed help, needed protection, but even as he tried to speak the panic made him cry just a little bit more… and his head hurt and he was so tired. All he wanted was to sleep and this would all be over soon… Dean…


End file.
